


Asskisser

by Lasertits



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Bottom Megatron, Crack, Dubious Consent, Fingering, Lugnut gets inspired, M/M, Megatron’s confused boner, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Size Kink, Sparring gone wrong, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, aft port
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 05:33:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13897347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasertits/pseuds/Lasertits
Summary: Lugnut introduces Megatron to something new.





	Asskisser

 

”Glorious Megatron, I thank you for allowing me to win this sparring round! I am unworthy! Please, let me show my devotion!”

 

Megatron, flat on his face with fifty tons of fanatic sitting on him, only growls and tries to push Lugnut off. To no avail, because Lugnut is staring wide-opticed into thin air the way he does when he has an Idea, and nothing less than a fusion cannon could distract him.

Which Megatron clipped off and stood carefully against the far wall of the cave, before they began their ill fated training session. Really, he asks himself, what in the name of the Allspark had he been thinking?

Sure, he had been under a lot of stress lately, with those blasted Autobots getting in his way wherever he turned. Sure, he needed an outlet for that. But he should have considered the eons upon eons since he last engaged in unarmed grappling, and the mass of his opponent. It only took one wrong move for Lugnut to catch him.

 

”The human way!”

”The what? What are you on about?”

”Devotion! I read about it on the Internet! The humans bow to one another!”

The weight above him shifts as Lugnut touches his chin in thought.

” ...But I’m sitting on you, you can’t see it.”

”Yes. You are. Get off me.”

Lugnut, however, continues uninterrupted in the grip of a coming epiphany that makes Megatron’s spark shrivel with a sense of foreboding.

”They kiss hands!”

A pause, as Lugnut considers the logistics.

”..But your hands are squashed under you. I can’t kiss them”, he says mournfully.

”-Yes-, they -are-. If you get off me, I’ll..”

”They..I know! Bumblebee!”

”What?!”

”He called me something! Yesterday! I looked it up! It’s how humans show they love their bosses!”

With that, the immense weight above Megatron lifts, and he immediately tries to flip onto his feet. Only to be pinned back down.

”Oof!” he says, faceplate to the stone.

Then there’s another servo under his hips, lifting them gently, and Megatron’s energon runs cold. ”Lugnut, stop this at once. That’s an ord..ah!”

Because there are no hips pressed against his, no cruel servo on the back of his neck, but the one pinning him draws down his spine in a caress, and something sinous and wet presses against his panelling. Has the big oaf deleted his interfacing files? If he’s looking for a valve, that’s hardly the right place. Megatron tells him as much, interspersed with some very foul Cybertronian slang. But Lugnut only laughs his booming laughter.

”No, Mighty Leader, I know what I’m doing! Open this for me, so I can worship you!”

With that, he goes back to licking across the closed panel. It’s clear he tries to be gentle, but he’s so strong that the sturdy metal bends inwards at each lick. Not quite denting, but putting pressure on the soft protoform beneath in a way that has Megatron squirming in confusion.

It isn’t until he feels the shock of something wet and hot directly on his port, that Megatron realizes he must have retracted his panel without meaning to.

 

He cries out and tries to scramble away, but then the confusing assault of sensations morphs, as his processor finally makes sense of the new input. Pleasure. Different from having his valve eaten out (and how many eons since last -that- happened?) but no less intense for that.

But it’s..it’s his -aft port-. It’s not meant for that kind of thing. In all his millions of years of life, he has never considered it as a potential source of hedonism. The very idea that a mech would willingly put their mouth in such an unclean place is ridiculous. And yet Lugnut is enthusiastic. He makes up for his lack of soft lipplates by licking Megatron like he was a piece of hard energon candy, and judging by his hums and sounds of appreciation, you’d think it tasted as sweet.

And, well, like said energon candy, Megatron melts under Lugnut’s attentions. His legs spread further apart, and his actual interface panels snap open. He braces himself on his forearms for leverage and pushes back into that wonderful pressure. He can feel his empty valve clench on nothing, soiling the plating of his legs.

Lugnut counters that by stiffening his tongue and holding it still, so it’s like a slick, tapered spike for Megatron to frag himself back onto. Until that glorious penetration is gone, as Lugnut sits back.

 

”You are injured, my Lord! You are leaking! Allow me to help you! I must put it back!”

With that, he gathers the slick running down Megatron’s thigh and gently pushes it back into Megatron’s valve, only teasing the rim with one clawtip.

”I’m not injured, you fool! Have you never seen a..”

Megatron goes quiet as he feels that blunt claw spread his folds and stretch the very first ring of calipers. He hangs his head and grunts softly.

Slowly, haltingly, he tips his hips back into that infuriating touch, and the claw slides a little bit deeper.

He must make a sound, and maybe Lugnut isn’t entirely as dense as he appears, because he goes back to assaulting Megatron’s aft with his tongue while turning and twisting his servo. He slides deeper still, curls his claw upon withdrawal and Megatron keens. That tongue is long and thick, not like the short flat ones on average mechs. It starts fragging into him in an off rhytm from the claw in his valve, stretching him wide at the apex of each thrust. He realizes he’s drooling and shuts his mouth with a click.

 

Only for Lugnut to withdraw from his valve with an affectionate and wildly inappropriate little pat goodbye, and start circling that clawtip around his aft port instead, where it opens around Lugnut’s tongue.

Megatron reaches back to swat him away, he’s too processor-scrambled to speak. But Lugnut is slow to take a hint, and now that claw is entering him, rubbing soothingly against the soft mesh within, until Megatron’s optics offline and he turns his head mindlessly to mouth at his own arm, while a strange pleasure fritzes up and down his backstrut cables.

Lugnut wriggles his claw a little deeper, and then that tongue is pushing in beside it and withdrawing. There’s a hint of almost-pain every time Lugnut is as deep as he can go, and the knuckle joints of his great servo clang against Megatron’s aft while that most vulnerable part of him is being stroked from the inside.

”Primus, more”, Megatron breathes. There’s no energon left for his voicebox, all of it seems to be pooled down low. ”More”, and Lugnut, whether he can hear him or not, delivers.

His spike and node are aching. He has managed to wriggle his hands free from under him, he should use at least one of them to touch himself. But before he can find the coordination to do that, Lugnut pushes in deep at a new angle and grinds there in short jabs. It stimulates that sweet spot in his valve from the other side, and coupled with the threat/promise of a second claw which is now touching his rim lightly, not yet pushing in, it’s all it takes. Megatron shakes through his overload, pedes curling with the intensity of it all. His vision blanches white and he worries he’s about to fry something vital, before all his thought processes freeze up and reboot.

 

He comes to, flickering his optics on and off to get rid of the bands of random colour. Lugnut is speaking against the side of Megatron’s helm, exventing over his audial.

”Where do you want it, oh Glorious Leader?”

”Huh? Mff” Megatron thinks he can be excused a moment of inarticulation under these circumstances. He has a hard time understanding the question, too, swimming as he is in a pool of afterglow shot through with tiny, belated shocks of pleasure.

There is something large and hot against his thigh, sliding in the wetness covering the plating. He vaguely feels that he ought to be intimidated, but he is too fragged out to care.

”Mffh”, he repeats.

”An exellent choice, my Lord and Master! Your genius exceeds all others!”

With that, he feels blunt teeth scrape against the back of his neck, and arms thicker than his legs cage him on either side, as Lugnut gently pins his servos to the floor.

He should protest that he hasn’t chosen. He should stop this before he’s impaled on that monstrous thing Lugnut is grinding against him. He doesn’t. He turns his head to catch Lugnut in an awkward kiss, and arches his back to recieve whatever his loyal follower deems fit to give him.

 

—/-


End file.
